The Name's Michael
by Sioux99
Summary: Star crossed lovers need a lot of help. Gilmore


The Name's Michael

By Sioux

Taking the corner around the bottom of the washing powder aisle on two wheels, his trolley coming perilously close to knocking over a huge pile of this week's loss leaders, Craig straightened up and headed off towards the bread aisle. A loaf and that was him done. With a bit of luck, he thought to himself, he could be out of the supermarket and away well before the main crowds of mid-December shoppers arrived. Craig was so intent on getting to the wholemeal loaves that he failed to see a young couple, muffled to the eyes in scarves and woolly hats. A muffled 'Ooof' as the trolley hit the young man had him turning quickly, apologies spilling from his lips.

"I'm so sorry; I didn't see you….."

He stopped speaking suddenly as his eyes met those of the young man. Slowly the man pulled his scarf from his face.

"Hello Craig," he said softly.

Craig could feel his mouth opening but no words were emerging.

"You're looking well," the young man continued.

His companion, a young Asian woman, was looking from one to the other giving the impression she was at Wimbledon and watching a centre court match.

"Are you OK, Craig?"

Craig nodded, still unable to speak.

"Luke?" the young woman asked, her accent pure Oldham.

Luke shook himself.

"I'm sorry! Craig, this is Naheela. Naheela, Craig Gilmore. I used to work with Craig when I was in the Met."

"Sergeant Gilmore?" Naheela asked.

Craig nodded once, sharply. His cheeks flaming he took one more look at Luke and Naheela then turned and fled, forgetting the bread in his desperate hurry to get away.

He didn't really remember going through the checkout although he did remember two words chasing him through the store.

"Craig! Wait!"

Once he'd gained the relative calm of his car he let his head fall back against the headrest and consciously tried to relax, taking big deep breaths in and out until he felt the adrenaline rush fading.

Luke bloody Ashton! Just his luck to run into him with his new girlfriend/wife. And to be so bloody transfixed at the sight he couldn't say a word. He could feel heat flood his face again as he imagined what a spectacle he'd just made of himself. Looking back towards the entrance of the supermarket he could see Luke standing there, scanning the car park. Ducking his head he turned the ignition key, his hands shaking, and peeled off. Moving far too fast for a car park, he left by the little used back exit.

Craig was still feeling a little shaky several hours later, even after bawling out one of the junior relief and having a toe to toe with the Inspector on his opposite shift. Despite being an acting Inspector, he'd won. But, by the end of his nine hours, he was feeling like a limp dishrag. Gratefully he got changed into civvies and was looking forward to a light supper of scrambled eggs on toast when he remembered he hadn't picked up the loaf.

Remembering why he hadn't bought the bread served to bring back the shakes again.

He called in at the off licence at the end of his road, paid a small fortune for a loaf of questionable freshness, and found he'd lost his appetite by the time he'd put his shopping away. Feeling as tense as a wound spring he decided that going to bed right now would be the wrong choice, so he locked up downstairs and diverted to the bathroom.

Soaking in a bath hot enough to turn his skin bright pink he slowly drank a glass of cool white wine, idly drawing designs in the condensation on the side of the glass whilst making a decision; namely that that branch of Tesco was off his shopping list!

It was five and a half years since he'd last seen Luke and, if he played his cards right, it would be another five and a half years, at least, before he had to see him again. He had been feeling like he was just getting over the pain and humiliation and getting on with his life. The unexpected sighting today told him the feeling of being in control was just an illusion; he wasn't in control and he hadn't gotten over Luke, he'd just buried him so far down in his memory he could pretend with ease.

Three days later Craig was returning from a meeting at 'A' division. He'd decided to drive himself there and back, simply so he didn't have a member of the relief cooling their heels whilst a load of higher-ups enjoyed the sound of their own voices. It was well past two-thirty and he'd been listening to his stomach not so subtly protesting at the lack of food for over an hour. Spying a parking place opening up a few yards from a small sandwich shop he pulled over.

To her credit the woman behind the counter didn't even blink at him as he dominated the tiny waiting area; a big man in full uniform.

"What can I get you, love?" she asked.

"Roast beef salad on brown please."

"Mustard or horseradish?"

"A bit of both?"

"Certainly," she replied as she efficiently put together a decent sized sandwich. He picked up a packet of crisps and a soft drink from the serve yourself display and placed them on the counter whilst she rang up the total. He handed over the correct amount whilst she put his purchases in a carrier bag. As he turned to leave he found himself staring down into wide, amber brown eyes.

"Craig, please wait!" Luke begged, but Craig was out of the shop and almost running to his car, bumping shoulders with a large, blond man as he struggled to leave the vicinity.

The blond turned to stare after him, but Craig barely noticed him.

Luke was standing in the doorway of the shop looking sadly after him as he roared away in his car.

"In a rush, wasn't he?" the blond said.

Luke nodded.

"Something you said?" the big man joked.

"A lot of somethings I said," Luke replied quietly, his eyes brightening with unshed tears.

"Ahh! You had a bit of a tiff?"

Luke looked up at the large man and thought about safety.

The man held up his hands and said,

"It's alright mate, I'm not a gay basher. I've been known to work both sides of the street." He smiled, showing blinding white teeth. "Want to talk about it?" he offered.

"No thanks," Luke said, recognising a pick-up line when he heard one. "I've got to get back to work. Thanks for the offer though."

"Anytime. The name's Michael," he said, holding out his hand.

"Luke," he responded, shaking the proffered hand and giving a tiny smile.

For all Michael's intimidating size and bulk, he topped Craig by at least four inches and was very well muscled with it; he didn't give off any danger vibes at all. Something which made Luke look twice.

"If you change your mind I'm working at the 'Fallen Angel'," Michael told him.

Luke grinned. The Fallen Angel was famous for having its all male bar staff work in tight, black, lycra cycling shorts, big feathered wings and little else. And all of them were chosen for their bodies, looks and amiable dispositions.

"I should have known! Maybe catch you later Michael," Luke said, walking away.

***

"This was not a good idea," Craig muttered to himself as he slowly wheeled his trolley, for the third time, up the aisle. Shopping was taking him twice as long as he didn't know the layout of the place, but there was no way he was going to go back to his usual Tesco, plus those people indulging in early Christmas food shopping were out in force; the place was heaving. He was stalking the dried goods area looking for a medium bag of brown rice when the clang of his trolley in a head on with another shopper jolted him out of his reverie.

"Sorry mate, wasn't looking where I'm going," the big blond man apologised.

"OK, my fault as well, I wasn't paying attention," Craig replied to the friendly smile.

"Don't I know you?" the blond man asked.

Cheesy line, Craig thought, what a shame!

"Don't think so."

"Yeah, I do. You're a copper, right?"

"Er, yes," Craig replied, wondering where this was going.

"I thought so! You were coming out of Elsie's a couple of days ago, in a right tearing rush."

Craig vaguely remembered a tall man he had barged but not a lot else, intent as he had been on escaping Luke.

"The name's Michael," the blond said, offering his hand.

"Craig," he replied, automatically taking it. "Sorry about the other day, I was in hurry to get back to work."

"You in a hurry now?" Michael asked softly, leaning in closer so no-one else would hear.

Craig leaned back and looked up; it was a new experience having to lift his head to look into someone's eyes. The eyes smiling down at him were blue, blue as a summer sky, and crinkling at the edges with amusement and invitation.

"No, not right now."

"There's a nice little pub three streets over, Lewins."

Craig knew it; it was one of the original gay friendly pubs in the city and, unlike its trendy counterparts, it had resisted the temptation to remarket itself in neon and tasteless decoration.

Michael watched the wheels turning in Craig's head.

"Meet you there in half an hour?" he asked hopefully.

Suddenly Craig smiled, his face lighting up.

"Alright, half an hour."

Michael returned the smile, his face breaking up into good natured creases. As he passed Craig to continue with his shopping he briefly gripped his forearm then walked on.

Smiling, Craig imagined how the evening might finish, then consciously put a stop to that; he really didn't want to have to go through the checkout sporting wood, not whilst wearing a short jacket. Looking at the shelf where Michael had been standing, he did a double take; sitting in solitary splendour was the last bag of brown rice. Taking that as a good omen he detoured to the medicines aisle on his way to the checkout and picked up a packet of condoms. Looking a lot more cheerful he joined one of the long queues to pay for his shopping.

Waiting in line did little to calm Craig. After finally handing over his money he impatiently dodged though the throng of shoppers, flung his carrier bags in the boot, firstly removing the packet of condoms to his jacket pocket, then slammed the lid. With all the queuing he had about nine minutes left of the half hour to get to Lewins.

The car park was filling leaving only the dark corners available. Craig wasn't that happy about leaving his pride and joy in the near darkness but had little choice. He made it to the pub door only a couple of minutes late.

Waves of humid air, bright with loud chatter and laughter, assailed him as he pushed open the door. The contrast between the drizzly cold evening outside and the light and cheer inside was intense. He stood near the door, scanning the packed crowd. He was conscious of a feeling of slight disappointment when he failed to see the tall blond head over the crowds. A hand waving madly from the far corner finally caught his attention.

Michael was hemmed in by a large party and finding it difficult to extricate himself. Giving up, he used hand signals to ask Craig what he wanted to drink, as he was nearer the bar.

'Lager,' Craig mouthed back.

Michael turned back to the bar as Craig, still smiling, unbuttoned his jacket. An insistent hand on his arm had him looking to the side. The smile froze on his lips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Craig snarled.

"Craig please, let me talk to you?" Luke pleaded.

"Why? Why should I? Haven't you done enough to me? Said enough to me?"

With a huge effort Craig lowered his voice to an angry, sibilant hiss.

"I admit it, you broke my heart and I'm not about to let you do that again Luke. Now go back to your new little woman and stop stalking me!"

"She's not… Craig, you've got it wrong! I don't want… I mean I do… but…"

"Luke, I moved two hundred miles in order to get away from you. Now do me the privilege of bloody well leaving me alone!"

Luke was stunned at the force of venom and hurt being directed towards him.

Suddenly, the warm, damp air and happy laughter, which, a few moments before seemed welcoming, were choking Craig. He couldn't breathe and began to pant, blindly searching behind him for the door handle. He needed to get away from Luke Ashton, desperately needed not to see, hear or smell his well remembered scent.

Stumbling into the darkness he almost ran back to his car. He didn't even hear Michael shouting after him. Light, running footsteps warned him he wasn't alone anymore. Instinctively he raised his fist when a pair of strong arms turned him.

"Hey!" Michael shouted, backing off and holding up his hands. "What's going on?"

Craig gasped and moved back, as much as he could between the confining cars, running his hands through his hair.

"Sorry Michael, can we do this another time?"

"If you want, but I couldn't imagine you getting flustered by that little twinkie."

A mirthless laugh huffed from Craig's lips as he shook his head. Leaning his head back he closed his eyes then opened them to look at the silent shadow of his companion. His silhouette of tight shirt and jeans made Craig's mouth dry with sudden lust. God, the guy was built! Wrapping a hand behind Michael's neck Craig pulled him forward into a hard, almost brutal kiss. A few seconds passed until Michael joined in as enthusiastically as Craig. Hands slid under Craig's jacket, pulling his t-shirt out of his jeans and sliding onto warm skin; a few moments after Craig began to undo Michael's shirt then moved swiftly onto his jeans.

Lust, anger and frustration boiled out of Craig to be quenched in Michael's willing body. Both were too wound up to make the encounter last very long. Breathing hard Craig rested on Michael's back, who, in turn, was leaning against a car. Feeling Michael moving slightly against the metal Craig gently pulled back, removing and tying off the condom which he then wrapped in a few tissues and put in his pocket for later disposal then he pulled his jeans up and generally straightened up.

Michael was squirming against the car, tucking his shirt in and refastening his jeans.

Feeling a little guilty Craig asked, "You OK?"

"You kidding?"

Craig couldn't see the grin but he could certainly hear it in his voice.

"I thought you were hot the first time I saw you, you've just proved it," Michael laughed.

Craig smiled into the kisses they shared.

Craig was feeling sated and relaxed for the first time in a long while but there was still a little guilt mixed in there. He'd taken out his frustrations on a very willing body; the sex had been incredibly hot but he hadn't felt much, apart from lust, for his partner in the act.

"You still want that drink?" Craig murmured in between lazy kisses.

"Mmm," Michael hummed against Craig's throat, the sensations jolting through Craig's nerves. Impossibly he felt himself stirring again. Abstinence certainly did make the cock grow longer, he thought to himself.

Michael's hands palmed his buttocks, pulling them as close as possible. The kisses became rather less lazy and more direct.

"You sure you want to go for a drink?" Craig checked, rather breathlessly.

A while later both men were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and entangled on Craig's double bed; the sounds of panting and the heady smell of musk permeating the air.

Craig glanced at Michael and smiled; he was still wearing his shirt. It was unbuttoned down the front and showed the full breadth of his magnificent, perfectly sculpted chest but it was still firmly on his shoulders and arms.

"What?" Michael asked.

"You're still wearing your shirt," Craig said.

Michael looked down at himself then at the naked body next to him.

Craig felt a big toe, oddly muffled, running the length of the underside of his left foot. He propped himself up on one elbow and wiped the sweat off his face and saw his left sock still on his foot.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"You never know, next time we might make it to completely naked," Michael laughed, wiping his face with both hands. "Mind if I use your shower?" he asked.

Craig shook his head.

"It gets sweaty enough by the end of the shift; don't want to start out like that."

"Where do you work?" he asked.

"Fallen Angel."

Craig grinned knowingly.

"I should have known," he said, unconsciously echoing Luke's comments from a few days previously.

Michael grinned and left the bed.

Hearing the shower running, his emotional encounter with Luke plus his unexpected exercise all helped to soothe Craig. He was on the edge of sleep, drowsily processing the evening and ending up thinking about the sex he'd had with Michael. For a big, toned bloke Michael was surprisingly passive. He joined in with enthusiasm but he'd let Craig lead both times. Also, for someone who was such an intimidating size, he wasn't a bit intimidating in either his manner or words. Quite a puzzle in itself.

Calmed by the continuing sound of the shower and the feeling of contentment Craig slid into a light sleep.

Michael was quiet as he got dried and dressed. For a moment he hesitated by the bed, looking down on Craig. In an oddly tender gesture he brushed back Craig's sweaty hair which had flopped over his face. Resting his hand against Craig's head he said softly,

"Rest well and awake refreshed, my friend."

At once, and visibly so, Craig's body relaxed completely into a deep, deep sleep. Pleased with the effect Michael covered him with the quilt, turned off the light and left the house, making sure the door latch caught after him.

***

Craig groaned as his alarm shrilled. It seemed like five minutes ago when he'd put the phone down on the last of his friends who were wishing him a Happy Christmas. The cold, dark reality of five a.m. on Christmas morning bit deep. He was getting out of bed, severely regretting his altruism in allowing the men with children to swap shifts with him. He showered quickly, shaved and then dressed. Coffee and toast, then he was making his way out of the house. One consolation of working on Christmas Day was quiet roads. He arrived before shift change, greeted the calls of, "Merry Christmas, Sir," with suitable replies and slid into his office to look over reports before the shift briefing began.

He was subliminally aware something wasn't quite right in the station before he heard the mutterings going past his office door. Lifting his head he sniffed. No smell of bacon butties wafting from the canteen. Collecting the notes he'd need he made his way towards the briefing room.

"You heard the news, Sir?" Sergeant Thomas asked falling into step beside him.

"News?"

"Kitchen's on the blink. No hot food for the relief."

"Oh great!" he groaned. "Hot drinks?" he checked.

"We can get tea and coffee and toast but that's about it. That's going to go down well today. Can't exactly nip off to the butty shop."

"We'll have to think of something," Craig said, walking bravely into the sea of muttering, hungry coppers.

***

Exiting the briefing room Craig turned to Sergeant Thomas and said, "Tell the kitchen to get onto the engineers, get this fixed. Failing that ring round and see if you can get any of the restaurants which are open to deliver food here."

"Sir," Thomas replied crisply and strode away, his silver, curly hair glinting in the lights.

Temporarily leaving the problem of a potentially foodless Christmas Day at the nick in Sgt Thomas' hands, Craig headed back to his office to settle into his perennially full inbox. Momentarily harking back to the days when 'paperwork' meant paper, he made a start on his stacks of email.

With the relief going about their work the hum of quiet industry was quite soothing. It didn't last for long though, Sgt Thomas knocked quietly and stuck his head around the door.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Sgt Grayson has just collapsed. We've phoned for an ambulance but now we've got no-one to cover custody."

Craig closed his eyes. The first thought running through his mind was, 'oh great, another man down and I'm trying to keep this section of the city covered.' He then checked his watch; ten forty five in the morning.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Severe pain, radiating up to his shoulder. Wondered if it was food poisoning."

"How busy are we down there?"

"Only a couple."

"Alright, I'll cover custody." He could deal with his email just as easily from the terminal down there as he could from his office.

"You Sir?" Thomas questioned.

"Yes, me Sergeant. I think I'm still capable of remembering what to do in the custody suite."

"Yes Sir."

"Any word on the kitchen as yet?"

"No Sir. I did manage to find a place that will deliver some food though."

"Amazing!"

"Yeah. Little Indian takeaway not too far from where I live."

"Well done Thomas."

"Thank you Sir. So what would you like?" Thomas asked, producing a pad of paper from behind his back.

"Ah, right. Umm, chicken madras, boiled rice and a naan. That'll do me."

Thomas took down the order.

"Has anyone got the orders from custody?"

"Not yet Sir."

"I'll phone it through when I get down there," Craig said, logging off and shutting down his PC.

***

Craig made his way down to the custody suite, one floor below, in time to see Sgt Grayson being taken away by paramedics. He was grey-faced and sweaty. When he saw Craig he tried to apologise.

"Neil, don't worry about it. I'll phone Marjorie for you and get one of the lads to take her to the hospital."

"Thanks Craig," Grayson gasped out.

The two men turned the chair Grayson was fastened into out towards the door. Craig followed them. When they'd loaded Neil into the vehicle he detained one of the paramedics.

"What do you think it is?" he asked quietly.

"Looks like gallstones," the man replied cheerfully. "We've given him something for the pain, he should be more comfortable soon."

Craig nodded and let them get on their way.

The conversation with Marjorie Grayson went better than he was expecting. Neil had been feeling ill, on and off, for quite a while, she revealed, but it hadn't stopped him turning in for his shift that morning.

"I'll get one of the lads to swing by and take you to the hospital," Craig said.

"That's kind of you Craig, but no thanks. I know what it'll be like with cover today and now you're a man down. I'll call our daughter and we'll go and see him together."

After exchanging a few more words plus a request that she let him know how Neil was getting on, he hung up and almost immediately forgot about Grayson.

Looking up the custody records he saw two men had been bailed earlier on and there was just a single prisoner remaining; one Colin Addy.

Taking the keys he went through into the cells.

"Good morning Mr Addy," he said, very loudly, banging the doors as much as possible.

Addy squinted up at Craig. One eye was completely closed whilst the other was half shut and a glorious mix of blue and purple.

"My brief 'ere yet?"

"You saw the duty solicitor earlier this morning."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did. She said she'd be back when you'd sobered up enough to be able to speak to her."

"Oh! Don't remember that."

"Considering your blood alcohol level when you were brought in this morning, I'm surprised you're awake!"

Addy rubbed his head and looked down, then asked,

"What happened to me?"

"According to the arresting officer you were offering to take on all comers outside the 'Bricklayers Arms', where you had been drinking for some hours. When no-one would take you on, you decided to start attacking people coming out of the pub."

Addy closed his eyes.

"Did I hurt anyone?"

"Not as much as they hurt you."

"Bloody 'ell," he muttered.

"Anyway, the kitchens are down this morning so we're getting some food shipped in. It's Indian takeaway stuff, so, what curry do you like?"

"Curry?" Addy smiled. "Curry for Christmas dinner." He seemed to find this amusing.

"Been trying to get my old lady to go out for a curry on Christmas Day for years instead of cooking turkey and all that stuff."

"Glad we could be of service," Craig replied dryly.

"Chicken Vindaloo and chips. Can I get a naan as well?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Kingfisher as well?" he asked hopefully.

"Don't push it Colin," Craig said as he shut the cell door with a clang.

Craig was just walking away, smiling at Addy's almost childlike enthusiasm for the offer of Indian food, when he noticed cell six's door was closed. Unoccupied cells always had their doors left open. He tried the door but it was locked. Selecting the key whilst he used the peephole, he saw there was someone in there; lying on the small bed, facing away from the door, covered in a blanket. Someone who wasn't on the custody records. Craig was quietly swearing to himself as he unlocked the door.

"Hello, hello Sir. Can you tell me your name?"

The blond head moved as its owner sat up. Momentarily distracted by the sight of a wonderfully toned, almost bare chest, it took a second for his eyes to work their way to his face.

He nearly dropped the keys.

"Michael!"

"Hello Craig," he replied, sounding bright and breezy, despite a bruise on his cheek.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

For a second, dreadful memories assailed Craig of Carl, and the last time he had unwittingly become sexually involved with a man of criminal tendencies. Right there and then he decided, if Michael was of that same ilk then he would cut him loose, despite how good the sex had been.

"Thought I'd break in and get the chance to see my favourite Inspector," he said, sitting up completely.

The blanket slid away revealing his working 'uniform'; he was still wearing the harness which held the wings in place and black lycra shorts, the large, feathered wings framing him.

"What did you get booked in for?" Craig asked, racking his brain as to how a prisoner could have been locked up without going through procedures.

"Your man across the way was getting a bit rambunctious," he touched the bruise on his face. "A colleague of yours brought us both in."

"Apart from not booking you on the system, they should have asked for the harness," Craig said.

Michael grinned up at him and stood up. Willingly he undid the black straps and handed them over. Craig stared, stupefied, as the harness was removed but the wings stayed in place. Craig turned him around to have a look at how the feathered creations were staying in place. He touched the wings; they were warm. Michael twitched his shoulder blades slightly and they rustled, then settled again.

Craig couldn't believe his own eyes - the wings seemed to sprout straight from Michael's back.

"How?" he asked.

Michael turned back to face him then stretched. The wings spread out, filling the cell, flapped slightly, with a sound like starched sheets being shaken out hard, then folded neatly back. Michael's face took on a pensive look as he appeared to be concentrating on a point just beyond Craig's left shoulder.

As Craig watched, the wings folded again, then again and again until Craig couldn't see them from where he was standing. He walked around Michael.

Two long red lines on each side of his spine were the only signs that anything had ever been attached to his back. Craig gently touched the skin around there. On closer inspection the lines appeared to be open wounds, as if someone had run a Stanley knife down Michael's back, but they were bloodless.

Michael turned to face Craig before opening his wings again, and flapping them hard; the noise was tremendous.

"Ah! That's better," he sighed. "Feels like I'm constipated when they're folded for too long. By the way, I'd like paneer tikka masala and a peshwari naan."

"What?" Craig asked, inelegantly, forcing his eyes away from the wings.

"Lunch order," Michael supplied helpfully. "I heard you tell the other chap about the kitchens."

"Right, lunch."

"Wouldn't mind a brew if there's one going," Michael added.

Craig shook himself and left the cell; force of habit making him lock it behind him.

Thomas took the food order as Craig made three quick coffees with a flask of hot water left there for the purpose then raced back to the cells.

Colin was grateful for the drink.

Michael was still sitting on the narrow bed, leaning against his wings. He smiled when he saw the hot coffee.

"Lovely!" he said, taking a cautious sip.

"What are you?" Craig asked.

Michael grinned.

"Thought the uniform might have given that away."

He twitched his left wing.

"No!" Craig said decisively. "I don't believe that."

"Lucky for me that my existence doesn't depend on your belief," Michael replied, sounding rather less like his normal happy go lucky persona. He put his cup on the floor and stood up so suddenly Craig involuntarily backed up against the other wall. Michael crowded Craig against the wall, his size and musculature a natural intimidation.

Craig held his eyes and refused to be cowed. Despite the fact Michael appeared older and wiser Craig still didn't feel threatened.

"I wouldn't hurt you, my beautiful human," Michael said softly, stroking his fingertips down Craig's cheek.

Craig shivered at the light touch.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly.

A mischievous looked crossed Michael's face as he said, "Hello, my name's Michael and I'm an angel," in a parody of an Alcoholics Anonymous introduction.

Craig smiled.

"Maybe a better question would be, why are you here, with me?"

"Well, sometimes we get given the tough jobs, the Divine One's slightly psycho army, wings always dipped in blood."

Craig swallowed, hearing in his mind the hell fire preacher of his boyhood home; keeping the kids in line with his nightmare images of avenging angels.

"And sometimes we get the pleasant jobs." He leaned forward, his knee going between Craig's knees. "And sometimes we get the really good jobs!" he finished, with a light kiss on Craig's lips.

Craig closed his eyes as Michael's voice took on a hypnotic quality.

"It was good between us," he kissed Craig's cheek. "Hot kisses, even hotter sex."

"Mmm," Craig agreed, sighing.

Another little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Good as it was, it was nothing compared to the way you felt during your one night making love with Luke Ashton."

Craig opened his eyes. Mention of that name as effective as a bucket of cold water in killing the mood. He pushed Michael back out of his personal space.

"What the hell has he got to do with anything?"

"You need to forgive him."

"Why?"

"Because that loving heart of yours is growing a hard shell Craig, and it's starting to die inside. Oh, you'll carry on breathing, it'll carry on beating, but you'll lose the ability to connect with people; slowly you'll lose the knowledge of how to love and trust again."

"No!"

"Yes," Michael corrected him gently. "It's already started. Who was the first person to help you when you transferred to this station, emotionally battered and near to giving up?"

"Neil Grayson," Craig replied without hesitation.

"And what was the first thought through your mind when you heard he'd collapsed this morning?"

Craig dropped his eyes, shamefaced.

"Your first thought wasn't about Neil, was it?"

Craig slowly shook his head.

"You'll be able to cover it for a while longer but quite soon people will see you for what you've become; a cold, selfish man who's only concerned about his career. How have you always felt about that kind of person?"

Craig wouldn't look at him until Michael gently lifted his chin.

"Well?"

"I've always hated them," Craig replied quietly.

"And yet, here you are, well on your way to becoming one of them."

"No, I'm not like that," Craig whispered.

"But you will be soon."

Craig shook his head. "No, no that's not me."

"No, it isn't you. The real you."

Craig felt overwhelmed when he replayed how he had been behaving for the last few years. He'd been faking emotional reactions, and faking them very well.

"You beautiful humans don't take things at face value for too long. You can read body language, you all have the ability to see the real person under the facades you all project."

"Why do you keep saying beautiful humans?" Craig asked.

"Because you are. You all have a spark of the Divine One in you. Every single one of you, no matter how you try to extinguish it."

Craig remained silent.

"It's a simple task you need to do to start working your way back to the person you were."

"What?"

"Talk to Luke."

"No!" The reaction was immediate and visceral. Craig tried to turn away but found he couldn't move.

"I need you to hear me out," Michael explained at Craig's panicked attempt to move.

"You just need to talk to him. Give him a chance."

"A chance to do what? Make a fool out of me again? Have me as his bit on the side whilst he's courting another woman? Seems like he's already started on that bit."

Michael shook his head.

"You're wrong there Craig. Luke would be mortified if he thought you thought he was having a sexual relationship with Naheela."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me on this. He's not."

"So I'm supposed to give him another chance to walk all over me?" Craig's eyes were spitting fire. "Let him break…" he stopped and banged the back of his head against the wall, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes.

"That needs healing. I won't let him break it again."

"You handing out happy endings now?"

"Can't guarantee that. I just want you to give him a chance to talk to you."

Craig refused to meet his eyes, starting at the ceiling instead. He stopped fighting against the invisible iron bands which held him. Gradually, as he relaxed, the bands released.

Michael waited patiently.

"Just talk?"

"Just talk," Michael replied quietly.

Craig was silent for a few more minutes, processing what he'd heard and how he was feeling.

"Alright, next time I see him I won't run away and I'll try not to bite his head off."

Michael's mouth turned up in a satisfied smile.

"It'll do." He sniffed the air. "Curry's on its way."

"You that hungry?"

"I could eat," he replied with a leer.

"Stop it!" Craig hissed. "I've got to work the rest of my shift and these sweaters aren't long enough."

Michael was totally unrepentant.

Craig made a hasty exit from the cell, the door clanging shut behind him.

The smell of curry was stronger in the passageway. A young man in a woolly hat and a brown jacket was carefully unloading plastic trays, plastic utensils and bowls. As there were three trays Craig knew where he'd be eating his lunch, and it wasn't going to be in the canteen.

"Bloody staff shortages," he growled under his breath. He felt rattled and would have welcomed some time away from the custody suite.

"Thanks for delivering the food, especially today. You've saved the city from the horrible spectre of lots of hungry coppers wandering around," Craig said jovially.

"You're welcome," Luke replied, turning around to face him.

For a second Craig wanted to turn tail and lock himself in one of the cells. Sternly he ignored the unseemly impulse and stood his ground.

Luke stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights waiting for Craig's reaction.

Craig couldn't think of a single thing to say which wouldn't sound aggressive or stupid. Both waited, staring at the other. Incongruously the only thought which came to mind was a question, so Craig asked, "Do you work for the takeaway then?"

Luke smiled slightly as he replied, "I help out occasionally."

Swallowing hard Craig didn't know what else to say. Luke turned back to the desk and began filling plastic tumblers from a jug, putting one on each tray.

"Do you want any help dishing them out?" he asked shyly.

"You still in the job?" Craig asked.

"No, left a while ago."

"Sorry then, can't have civilians wandering near the cells."

Luke nodded and looked down, then looked up and almost cringed when he saw Craig had chosen that moment to do the same.

Craig cleared his throat and asked, "Do you mind hanging on here for a couple of minutes until I've given out the lunches then I'll let you out."

"No, no, I don't mind," Luke said quickly.

Craig looked at the three trays, rather stuck for a moment as to which meal was which.

"Ummm, do you know…."

"Oh, yes! That one is paneer tikka masala, chicken vindaloo and chicken madras," Luke pointed out each dish without hesitation.

Craig nodded his thanks and picked up the vindaloo. Colin's eyes lit up when he saw the food.

"That's looks grand!" he said appreciatively.

"Enjoy!"

Craig returned to the front desk, a smile on his face. Luke was looking very alert.

"Is that Colin Addy?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

Luke nodded. "Don't tell me, D&D from last night?"

Craig nodded. "How did you know?"

"His wife keeled over three years ago, heart attack whilst cooking Christmas dinner for a large family gathering. Colin became very depressed, and hates anything to do with Christmas. He tends to get slaughtered every Christmas Eve."

"He kept going on about how he's tried to get his wife to go out for Christmas dinner for years."

Luke nodded.

"Poor bloke. Salt of the earth the rest of the year. Just gets a bit much for him at this time."

Craig picked up the other tray and returned to the cells.

The blanket was neatly folded on the empty bed and the mug of cooling coffee on the floor was the only sign it had ever been occupied. Craig slid the tray onto the bed and picked up the mug. Something white caught his eye across the other side of the cell. He put the mug on the tray and picked them up, then sat back down on the bed, holding two white feathers. Craig hadn't a clue how long he'd been sitting in the cell stroking the feathers.

"Craig! Craig, are you alright?"

Luke was kneeling on the floor beside him, touching his arm.

"I'm fine. Just thinking. Sorry, you want to be let out."

"No rush. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Just thinking about something someone told me this morning."

Luke looked around at the empty cell.

"The gaol bird flown?" he asked.

Craig looked at him blankly.

"Feathers, no prisoner."

"Don't give up your day job," Craig replied, his face straight.

Luke smiled, lighting his face, turning him into a lovely, shy looking stranger. Craig looked, then coughed, settling the cloak of Inspector, once more, firmly around his shoulders.

"I'll let you out, your friend will be looking for you."

"Friend?"

"The woman I saw you with in the supermarket."

"Naheela? No, not a friend, she's a patient of mine."

"Patient?"

"I'm a psychiatric nurse at an outreach centre."

"That's how you know Colin?" Craig asked putting the tray down on the front desk next to his own untouched food.

"Yeah."

"A bit of a change."

"Denying what I am for so long, lying to so many people and hurting them, I developed a bit of insight."

They were both silent for a moment.

"Are you going to let me apologise to you?" Luke asked quietly.

Craig was thinking, still holding the feathers.

"I think we've both got things to apologise for," he said. "I pushed you when you weren't ready. I just wanted to be right about your repression rather than letting you come to terms with your sexuality in your own time."

"And I used you and Kerry and hurt you both so badly. I really do regret that."

A ghost of a smile graced Craig's lips. Tucking the precious feathers into his trouser pocket he held out his hand to Luke.

"Truce?"

Luke smiled, taking his hand.

"Truce."

Craig looked around the empty custody suite. It reminded him rather too much of his life. Seeing Luke standing at his side, all big eyes and hopeful looks, he took a deep breath and asked, "If you've nowhere better to be, maybe you could join me for lunch?"

"I'd like that," Luke said quickly.

"Hope you like paneer tikka masala."

Luke beamed. "That's my favourite," he replied, looking inordinately pleased at the prospect of eating cooling curry and the company of his pensive lunch companion.

Craig gestured to the small interview room across from the front desk.

"Happy Christmas, Luke," he said, in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Thanks, it's turning out to be," Luke replied, his genuine pleasure shining from his face.

Craig followed him, confusion in his mind. Eating cool curry with only his miserable self for company wouldn't have had him dancing in the aisles.

Luke sat down and looked up at Craig, giving him a big smile. Craig felt a flutter in his chest; it wasn't the mind numbing, breath stealing, sheer terror of before. This felt gentler, more subtle, like the wings of a butterfly brushing against his ribs.

It took him a little while to identify the feeling, as it was a long time since he'd last felt it. Finally he recognized it for what it was; hope.


End file.
